Posts tagged with "cats"

Lisa-time, me-time

Our reunion end­ed on a cliffhang­er, where *Skins SPOILERS* Tony gets hit by a bus, Sid finds Cassie, and Angie breaks up with Chris. But fin­ish­ing a sea­son means we have the chance to start some­thing new (or resume anoth­er show), and we tend to alter­nate between com­e­dy and dra­ma, sweet and savoury, while sur­round­ed by kit­ties in the lit­tle nest we make for our­selves.

girl and cat

Cats warm their balls in your hair and make eye con­tact to show dom­i­nance.

I did­n’t real­ize how hard it was to go a whole month with­out her until I saw her again. The time we’ve spent over the last few years has made me com­fort­able enough to let my guard down, and it’s good to be remind­ed that we’re capa­ble of such things every now and then, espe­cial­ly when still deal­ing with trust issues and emo­tion­al trau­ma.

The things we share are often small and sim­ple, as they’re most­ly about plea­sures and we’re eas­i­ly pleased. Actually, it’s more like she’s eas­i­ly pleased, while I’m pleased when oth­ers are hap­py. It’s a dynam­ic that works real­ly well for both of us. I love myself when I’m with her cause she appre­ci­ates me in all the intri­cate ways I want to be appre­ci­at­ed, and that gives me a lot of the val­i­da­tion I need in my life right now.

in between

I haven’t had much to say, which is always a strange state to be in. Probably due to the fact that I’m mak­ing a con­scious effort to lis­ten more and speak less. You begin to won­der about the impor­tance of your thoughts, and what real­ly needs to be said.

It feels like I’m between…things. I’ve recent­ly fin­ished off a few projects, so I’m tak­ing a break before I start anoth­er pro­duc­tiv­i­ty binge. Me-time has most­ly involved win­ning drafts and cash­ing in wagers. Lisa’s off to Hawaii for her hon­ey­moon so it’ll be a month before I see her again, but that gives me a much-need­ed chance to spend time with the friends who aren’t part of my reg­u­lar sched­ule.

cats by the door

The cats are into their spring cycles, shed­ding like mad, and sleep­ing by the door dur­ing the day. I’m tempt­ed to cut my hair short again in antic­i­pa­tion of the heat, but I’m hav­ing too much fun grow­ing it out right now. I’ve decid­ed to embrace the length cause I know I’ll get sick of it even­tu­al­ly and cut of it off, like any oth­er cycle of growth and loss, love and hate.

torpor

The hol­i­day sea­son is offi­cial­ly over when it does­n’t feel right to watch Christmas spe­cials of Only Fools and Horses. The Trotter boys are out of their ele­ment, try­ing to strike it rich in exot­ic locales, and the Peckham flat is too far away for things to feel nor­mal. Still, watch­ing them makes me miss the UK more than ever. I’ve tak­en to episodes of Sherlock to get my dose of London nights until I can find a way to make it over there again.

girl in snow

Pointer of quar­ry, tamer of cats.

Over here, it’s been a faith­ful Canadian win­ter. Bouts of var­ied snow­fall, record-break­ing lows, and a spot of freez­ing rain here and there. My gui­tar must be aching­ly dry as the mod­est humid­i­fi­er help­less­ly fails to main­tain bal­ance against the con­stant churn of the fur­nace.

I’ve been pick­ing her up again, rebuild­ing my blis­ters and re-learn­ing old songs. Sometimes I won­der how I was ever able to play cer­tain pas­sages, but know­ing I have before makes it eas­i­er the sec­ond time around. This time it feels a lit­tle dif­fer­ent though. I have a bet­ter reach and a more con­fi­dent picky, along with some new pains that have found their way into my hands.

cat in cat bed

The cold that per­me­ates the house means Dolly prefers sleep­ing in her bed over any one spot, and I can car­ry her around with me from room to room to keep me com­pa­ny. Byron is rarely far away. Even though he’s not as affec­tion­ate as Dolly, he’s still my cat in the way he comes to walk on me when I wake, and the rit­u­al play­time we have after teeth are brushed.

With the cats form­ing a lit­tle nest wher­ev­er I go, and the view of ice and snow just out­side the win­dow, I have lit­tle rea­son to leave the house nowa­days.

merry x-mas

Julia asked me how long I’d been spend­ing Christmas at their house. We fig­ured out this was the sev­enth year, cause I have pic­tures of Ginger from 2005, before she died. I can’t say I remem­ber each Christmas dis­tinct­ly, aside from a few extra faces and occa­sion­al make­outs that cause some to stand out more than oth­ers. It’s strange to think that I’ve known Braiden for more than half his life. I per­pet­u­al­ly think of him as being sev­en.

The Rogers'

The kids are get­ting old­er, no longer up at 5am and anx­ious­ly wait­ing by the presents until they’re allowed to wake up the par­ents. The idea of Santa has long been dis­pelled. Braiden’s giv­en up being a cen­tre for goalie, lost his post-sea­son scruff cut, and at 13 is only an inch short­er than me. Nicole’s done most of her grow­ing and will be legal in four months, but at the age where she’s still some­one’s daugh­ter instead of her own woman. Julia’s sport­ing a new voice and pierc­ing, but has kept all the sass that comes with being the mid­dle child.

Continue read­ing “mer­ry x‑mas”…

it hasn't been quite a whole year yet

I still have fond mem­o­ries of the fall. It’s when the light is at it’s most neu­tral, not warmed by the sum­mer sun or cooled by it’s reflec­tion on the snow. The time of long show­ers, kit­ties being even more affec­tion­ate, and girls always find­ing the right spot to nes­tle under your neck.

On par­tic­u­lar­ly bright, chilly days, with all the leaves a flat lemon-yel­low, I can hard­ly take it all in.

cat in sunbeam

We are on this plan­et to move our cats direct­ly in the path of a sun­beam every 15 min­utes.

The sun­beams form a celes­tial cal­en­dar across my floor, slow­ly creep­ing along as they threat­en to warp the wood in my instru­ments, remind­ing me that I haven’t spent a win­ter in this room yet. I can only hope the mem­o­ries will be bet­ter this time around.

These days, I still dream of a nylon-stringed beau­ty, with warm tones and crisp bass close to the sad­dle. I won­der what she’ll feel like under my fin­gers, mahogany or rose­wood, satin or glossy. It’s a dream that nev­er seems far away cause I know it’ll hap­pen some day, so I try to cher­ish the antic­i­pa­tion.

toy plane

I’ve been feel­ing par­tic­u­lar­ly nos­tal­gic. When the right song comes on, I’m tak­en to the time in my life when it was the only thing I played for a week straight. I used to write so much, but late­ly I hard­ly have any­thing to say it all. That’s why I’m addict­ed to the feel­ing of feel­ing, search­ing for inspi­ra­tion, using my dreams to keep me alive.